Heir of Thieves
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: This is a story about Gwyn's son - the grandson of Robin Hood! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: A New Life, Froderick's Offer

**Chapter 1: Gwyn's New Life and Froderick's Offer**

Gwyn was despondent as she galloped through the English countryside. She had to get as far away from Westminister Abbey and the palace as possible. Why was her home at such a distance? Yes, she knew Sherwood Forest was the safe haven of the Merry Men – the group she now co-commanded with her father, the famous Robin Hood. Still, she and her horse were exhausted. Her emotions did not help alleviate this much.

Gwyn was returning from Prince – no, King – Phillip's palace. The newly crowned ruler whose life she had helped protect from Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham had wished to speak to her. A letter had arrived a few days previously announcing this intent. There were no details, just that he requested "an audience with your Ladyship." In retrospect, Gwyn wondered why the vague wording of the document had not produced any suspicions in her. She trusted the King, so she had figured it was something important that he need not reiterate to her in person as well as in writing.

Once she had arrived in London and at the castle, King Phillip had greeted her warmly. He did not waste words and got right to the point. It was something that he had already told Gwyn just after his coronation, when they had parted on the assumption that they could not be together. That had been several months ago, and already King Phillip had grown resentful of this barrier. He was King, he said, why should he not have everything he desired? He was prepared to pursue what he wanted, and what he wanted was her, Gwyn, as his Queen. He did not care who he would have to run over to get what he wanted – the Church, the Courts. He just knew that he was prepared to do whatever it took.

Before Gwyn had had a chance to politely and respectfully decline the King's offer (though she was flattered and wished things could be different as well), the King had closed in and kissed her. At first, she was unsure what to do, but finally relented and returned the affections. It was all very innocent at first, but then the King had begun to escalate things…very quickly, too quickly for Gwyn's liking. She now began to do what she should have done from the beginning, if she had only had her wits about her and kept her usually strong resolve. Her resistance was not unnoticed by Phillip, but he too had a strong will. He knew what he wanted…and as King, he would get it. So, he had picked a slightly struggling Gwyn up, carried her to his master bedroom and continued kissing her in his bed. A battle of wills now turned into a battle of strength. Gwyn was strong, thanks to her bow training and her missions with her father. She put up a good fight, but the King was stronger. He managed to strip Gwyn of all her clothes, and began to perform sexual acts on her. Gwyn squirmed and twisted, but could not break free. She wished to cry out, but could not because of Phillip's relentless kisses. Eventually, the combined raping and her resistance tired her out and she became limp from sheer exhaustion. Phillip had won, and now continued to assault her body freely. He finally let her go once he had satisfied his urgings, but ordered Gwyn to keep the visit quiet, or there might be consequences. Gwyn had only nodded numbly; she was certain she was in shock. Only after she had spurred on her horse beyond the palace gates did she begin to emotionally break down.

At long last, the girl could now see the abbey and surrounding farm and compound that was her home in the distance. It was on the edge of Sherwood Forest. Not many people were even aware that the abode harbored many outlaws, but the forest served as a convenient escape route and hiding place in case of an attack. The welcome sight made Gwyn push her horse harder and she burst into the compound at a flying pace. She dismounted clumsily in front of the stable before the horse had even halted. The entire lower half of her body felt as though it was on fire, from both the long ride and the King's penetrations.

Stable hands took care of her horse as Gwyn slowly walked up to the monastery home. Inside, the friar brothers and other members of her Merry Men extended family were bustling about. Friar Tuck was the first to notice her.

"Ah, Gwyn, there you are, my girl!" he chortled. He gave her a hug, which Gwyn indulged. She was surprised at how she stiffened slightly at his touch. Friar Tuck noticed this, however, and quickly deduced that something was not right. He stepped back to get a better look at her.

"What troubles, girl?"

"None, Uncle" Gwyn hastily replied, but Tuck was not convinced. As if he could read her thoughts, he followed up with "Did everything go well with the King?"

The very mention of this was enough to make Gwyn come unglued; she collapsed into Tuck's arms, wailing. "No-oooo! He- he raped me!"

Tuck looked speechless, and it was only then did he realize the once busy kitchen was eerily quiet. All the other brothers were staring at the poor distraught girl hugging their leader.

"What are you all looking at?!" Tuck roared with an angry temper uncharacteristic of a servant of the Lord. "All of you, report to the Chapel for afternoon prayer immediately. Silent intentions until I get there!"

The brothers hustled out of the room as Tuck guided Gwyn upstairs, half-supporting her. He went along the hall, poking into room after room until finally he found who he was looking for.

"Robin!" he bellowed. "We have an emergency here!" Gwyn peeked out from among Tuck's robes to see her father and Will Scarlet turn to face the new arrivals. Robin's stoic gaze quickly melted to one of concern when he beheld the sight before him.

"Good heavens, Gwyn! Are you alright?" he asked. Gwyn shook her head. For some reason, she could not bear to again utter the words she had told Friar Tuck, so she was relieved when Tuck took it upon himself.

"The King raped her when she had her audience with him today." Robin looked stunned, but Will looked enraged. He ran to a table and seized his bow, declaring something about him and Robin marching on the palace themselves and getting themselves an _audience_ with the King. Robin, however, held him back.

"No, Will. If we spoke up, Phillip could make us outlaws again and turn the Sheriff of Nottingham loose on us. We would be back to how we were living under Prince John. Power is on the King's side here. I am just as angry as you are, but I do not think we can do anything."

They were interrupted by Froderick, one of the prospective monks and Gwyn's childhood friend, who came in carrying a full pail.

"I finished milking the cows, Friar Tuck," he announced, but stopped short when he saw Gwyn's state. He rushed over to her as quick as he could without spilling the milk. "Gwyn, what's the matter?" Friar Tuck interrupted.

"Store the milk away first, Froderick, then you can return and we will tell you what is going on." Froderick, eager to learn what was ailing his best friend, did as he was told immediately. When he returned, he was quickly filled in. He was angry at the King's actions, and vowed to resign his commission on his Majesty's council in protest. Robin reiterated what he had told Will, and Gwyn quietly concurred.

"I will not let you give up your future and earned success for my sake, Froderick," she declared. Froderick glanced at her and looked as though he wanted to say something, but kept silent.

Tuck soon stole away to supervise the brothers in afternoon prayer, though he allowed Froderick to miss the service so he could help Gwyn. Maids helped Gwyn change out of her clothes, but forebade her from bathing given what had happened to her. Once she was changed, Robin, Will and Froderick helped the girl to bed. As she fell asleep, Gwyn wondered if her life would ever be the same again.

* * *

Gwyn's question was answered for her sooner than she expected. About 6 weeks after the raping, she discovered that she was pregnant with Phillip's child. Everyone was in awe that the heir to the throne of England was in their presence, even if he (or she) was not born yet.

Gwyn created a new routine for herself. She kept herself as busy as possible, doing many chores for as long as she could during her pregnancy. She would eventually have to go on to bed-rest, but she did not want to think about that just yet. Froderick helped her immensely and was almost always at her side except in sleep. Gwyn was grateful for his company, as ever, and he comforted her when she lamented over her diminishing physical mobility.

One day in the third month of her pregnancy, Gwyn rose to feed the animals in the barn. Her biggest chore was to milk the cow. Froderick was up at the same time. Already, it was getting somewhat harder for her to move about, so Froderick supported her as they trekked out to the stable. He guided the cow out front and set up the stool before helping Gwyn onto it. She smiled at him gratefully. As she began to milk, Froderick leaned up against the barn wall, opened up his copy of the King James Bible and began to read. He was reading the Holy Book in multiple languages – Latin, Spanish, French, among others – so as to better serve the King when he carried out his commission in foreign lands. Occasionally, he would quiz Gwyn on the languages and their various conjugations – a task that she always tried her best in, but could apply herself more to. Today was no exception.

"Vais, vas, va, allons…" she began, stumped.

"Allez, vont," Froderick finished for her. He sighed, slightly amused. "How can I tutor you if you don't study?"

"You're the future missionary, Froderick. French serves you, not me," Gwyn retorted. "The only thing that will serve me is housekeeping so I can better raise my child." She was slightly annoyed and frightened of the task before her.

Froderick gave a small smile. "Back to French before you sour her milk." Gwyn gasped in mock indignation and twisted the cow's utter around, sending a spray of milk into Froderick's face. She giggled at his reaction.

"Sweet enough, brother Froderick?" she teased. In response, Froderick tried the one tactic he knew would get her. Gwyn saw it coming and tried to stop him, to no avail.

"No! No- no! Oh no!" she cried and laughed, as Froderick grabbed her and the two tripped and rolled down the slight embankment, laughing. They ended up with Gwyn on top of Froderick. Breathing heavily, Gwyn was not concentrating. So, she was surprised when Froderick suddenly closed the gaps and kissed her full on the mouth. She gasped in surprise before Froderick's lips solidified their hold on her. His arms encircled her lovingly. His hands drifted lazily down her back and sides until they rested on her dress right on her butt.

"Mmmmmm…No….no…." Gwyn gasped into Froderick's mouth. She was reminded of her interaction with King Phillip, and started to have a panic attack. But then, Froderick, squeezed that area of her body. He held her gently, and his mouth danced across hers. Slowly but surely (though oddly), Gwyn found herself staring to relax. This was _Froderick_ ; he would never hurt her. All at once, Froderick's tongue flicked out, demanding entrance. Gwyn was so taken aback, that she consented immediately and his tongue squirmed inside of her maw. Froderick deepened the kiss and Gwyn even began to kiss him back. Just when she was beginning to get used to the feel of him, they broke apart.

Gwyn was stunned. A part of her wanted to punch her friend, but another part of her was just begging for him to kiss her again. She brought herself back to Earth as Froderick began to speak.

"I've been thinking," he said. "That child of yours is going to need a father. And…I am in love with you, Gwyn. I have been for a long time. I would be willing to marry you, if you'll have me. I could still do my commission, but I would not pursue the priesthood. I could earn the title of Deacon and still be with you and take care of the baby. What would you say to that?"

Gwyn wanted to cry. Froderick was willing to alter his entire future just for her. She was so grateful to him for what he had done for her. Right now, her feelings for him were unsure, but maybe she could learn to love him as a husband and not just a surrogate brother in time. She would give herself to him, a nice and decent man who would take care of her and her child. She gave him a peck on the lips.

"Yes," she whispered, before Froderick pulled her flush against him and engaged her lips once more.

* * *

A week later, Gwyn was adjusting the saddlebags on her horse. Her father had agreed to let her accompany him on one last mission before she would be confined to the compound for the next 6 months. Froderick was also leaving to fulfill his commission in Spain. The horses were guided out to the front gate. Froderick was chatting with Friar Tuck.

"So, Mr. Deacon-to-be," Gwyn asked. "When am I going to see you again?"

"Probably not for a couple months," Froderick replied.

Gwyn smiled. "Then I'll never need to live this down." Before Froderick realized what was happening, she had grabbed him around the waist, pulled her to him and gave him a big kiss. It was the first one between them that she had initiated. Froderick got over his surprise and returned the affection. They broke apart and he bid her good-bye. Robin had a small smile on his face. Everyone mounted and took off in opposite directions: Robin, Gwyn and the Merry Men one way, and Froderick in the other. The first party had barely gone a mile when they heard hooves behind them and a voice calling out "Wait!"

Gwyn slowed her horse and turned. Froderick was galloping full throttle toward her. He stopped in front of her, grabbed her face and gave her a giant kiss of his own. Then, he turned and galloped back the way he had come, shouting "I love you!" as he went. Gwyn smiled. For the first time in awhile, she felt things were going to turn out fine.

* * *

The mission did not take long, and the Merry Men had returned within the month. 3 months after that, Froderick returned from Spain a full-fledged Deacon. Gwyn was overjoyed to see her fiancé again and he told her all about his time there. He had had to deliver a report to the King, but he had gone about it as though nothing was wrong, as hard as that was for him. Interestingly, the King had not asked about Gwyn at all. At 6 months pregnant, this news left Gwyn angrier than she probably would have been otherwise; mood swings were beginning to kick in.

At 7 months pregnant, Gwyn and Froderick were married in a quiet ceremony in the monastery of Sherwood Compound and Farm. The bride looked beautiful and Froderick was almost bursting with pride. Friar Tuck officiated, and Robin seemed happy to be giving his daughter away to a man whom he trusted. The kiss was magical. Gwyn and Froderick spent their honeymoon in nearby Canterbury, but Gwyn felt she was of no help to her husband because she was now on bed-rest. She and Froderick did not have intercourse, because the rape was still fresh in Gwyn's mind. Also, Froderick was afraid he might hurt the baby for some reason, which Gwyn thought was cute.

At long last, 9 months was reached, and a healthy baby boy was born. Gwyn had thought long and hard on a name that would be appropriate for the great Robin Hood's grandson. "Conrad," she said at last. Froderick snapped his head up and frowned. He knew why she had picked that name, and it probably served as half of a reminder, half not. Conrad had been the name of King Phillip's valet, who had been murdered while protecting his master as they traveled to claim the throne of England. It was also the name Phillip had gone by to hide his identity; the name Gwyn and Froderick had known him as for a short time. Still, Froderick wanted to respect his wife's decision and knew he wanted to be the best father possible to this baby, even if it was not his biologically. But that was something the couple would keep to themselves. Right now, a family was created and complete.

* * *

That same night, the Sheriff of Nottingham paced in his quarters. A rider had given him the news weeks ago, but he wanted to have information as soon as it became available. Suddenly, he heard movement downstairs and approached the balcony.

"What?!" he demanded. A messenger, newly arrived, looked up.

"You gave me orders to inform you the moment the child was born, my Lord," the messenger said. The Sheriff came down the stairs and looked through some scrolls. "Shall I order a price on the infant's head my Lord?"

"Equal to the prices set on his grandfather and mother" the Sheriff snarled. He turned back to face them. "Robin Hood shall not have a grandson, to plague Nottingham with his legacy."

"Very well, my Lord," the messenger sighed. "That will be 10,000 pounds then on the head of the infant…Conrad of Locksley."


	2. Chapter 2: Conrad, Heir of Two Kingdoms

**Chapter 2: Conrad of Locksley, Heir of Two Kingdoms**

The sun shone against the peaceful grass in the English countryside. Suddenly, a horse's hooves trampled the green stalks. The beast flew as if it did not touch the Earth, supporting the laughing 15-year old youth on its back. Conrad of Locksley whooped as he spurred on for Sherwood Compound and Farm. He had just left the Forest behind him and was now making great time across the vast, empty plains.

He slowed down yards away from the compound gates and entered the stable yard at a moderate trot. Dismounting, he brought his steed to the stable and gave him a pail of water. He was just about to fetch a pail for himself when he heard a familiar voice calling.

"Conrad? Conrad? Conrad Froderick Locksley, you answer me right this minute!" Conrad sighed. His mother had a temper like no other woman alive. His grandfather told him she possessed the same temper of his late wife.

"Yes, Mother? I'm here!" Conrad called. Gwyn appeared in the stable doorway. She stopped short. It was always startling to see how much her son resembled his father. Thankfully, there were enough of her features in him that no one important had yet suspected he was the (albeit illegitimate) heir to the throne of England. His actions also obscured his true heritage. Conrad had taken to thieving, like his mother and grandfather before him, like a pig to slop. The boy had a keen and natural yearning for adventure and thrills. This sometimes frightened Gwyn, if that fright only came from her motherly instincts. She had turned out like her father just as much as Conrad was turning out to be like her. The legacy of Robin Hood was being passed down to a third generation. Conrad had been finally allowed to accompany the band of outlaws on a small mission two years ago, and even then under the watchful eye of his mother. The Merry Men had already taken to giving their leaders (including Conrad as an unofficial one) titles. Robin was the "Prince of Thieves"; Gwyn was the "Princess of Thieves"; and Conrad was the "Heir of Thieves." Only a small inner circle knew the almost chilling implications behind these cheeky nicknames, especially in the case of the latter.

Conrad approached his mother with an air of pride that seemed just like Phillip's. "I brought back some venison," he declared, presenting a dead turkey. "Shot it in Sherwood Forest at 50 paces, on my word of honor. Should be able to feed us for a week."

Gwyn could not help but smile, despite the fact that she was reluctant of her son's hunting adventures. The Sheriff of Nottingham and his supporters worked as illegal vigilantes in the area, rounding up outlaws and carting them over to York, where some members of the high courts there still favored Prince John.

"Bring it inside, and the brothers will store it in the cooling shed. Then, go find your father. You're nearly late for afternoon prayer." Conrad did his best to hide his disdain for any religious services. He only endured them because his mother ordered him to, and his father enjoyed them so. He loved his father, Froderick, and was very proud of his status as a Deacon. The lad also respected how much the man loved his mother. However, Conrad knew the life of the faithful was not for him. He would lead the life of his mother and grandfather; it was in his blood. He could feel it!

The boy made his way to the small chapel in the back of the compound. His father was already there, on bended knee, praying. He only snapped out of his reverence when the door clanged shut.

"Conrad, my boy!" Froderick called. "You're just about on time! Friar Tuck and the others should be here soon." Conrad went over to kneel by his father. They folded their hands and began to recite the Lord's Prayer together, first in English, then in Latin – the deacon's favorite language. Conrad could not fathom how his father could be fluent in half a dozen tongues; his mother said it was an inherent gift. Others joined them by degrees, and the service lasted for nearly an hour. At long last, bells in the chapel steeple released them for the evening meal.

Meals at Sherwood Compound and Farm were always crowded, loud and delicious. All of the food came from right out of the Earth, created by human hands. Froderick said that connecting to the Earth in this way gave one a deeper awe and appreciation for God's creation. All Conrad knew was that "God's creation" produced good meat. Father and son slipped into chairs on either side of Gwyn. Gwyn frowned in what Conrad knew to be mock disapproval.

"I would like dining with you better, my love, if you didn't wear your robes to meals," she teased her husband. Froderick shot a glance at her and smirked.

"Would you like me better if I just grabbed you, threw you down and kissed you from head to toe?" he retorted. And he did just that, kissing Gwyn passionately. Some of the Merry Men chortled. Gwyn didn't care, as she melted into the kiss, and gave a tiny whimper when they broke apart. She adored kissing her husband more and more as the years went by.

"You are most bold, sir," she smiled. "Most bold, indeed." Friar Tuck clapped his hands.

"Alright, everyone. No more necking at the Lord's Table. Who wants to say Grace?" Will Scarlet volunteered that night. Then, everyone began to dig in. Some of Conrad's turkey venison had already been procured for the meal, and Robin even commented on how delicious it was. Conrad proudly took claim for the fresh meat; he was never happier than when he could tell his grandfather of his adventures. Robin's praise meant the world to him.

"50 paces, you say? A crack shot, just like his mama's old man," the aging rogue laughed. "Your mother couldn't hit anything from that far away at 15, could you, Gwyn?" Gwyn just stuffed some vegetables into her mouth to avoid answering.

All too soon, it was time for bed. Conrad bathed as he always did at night and got dressed for the night. Gwyn soon came in and kissed him goodnight; Froderick followed suit. It was a ritual that Conrad endured for his parents' sake. But one ritual he did not mind at all was asking his father for a bedtime story. Tonight was no exception. Froderick feigned slight annoyance at his surrogate son's request.

"Aren't you a little old for bedtime stories?" he asked. When Conrad avoided the question, Froderick relented and asked what story he wanted to hear. The Deacon already knew the answer. It was the story of the Battle of Sherwood Forrest, in which he had dived in front of the Prince (soon to be King) and taken an arrow to the chest for him, saving the Prince's life. As always, Conrad would ask to see the scar the arrow's tip had left, and Froderick would proudly show it. Then, it was lights out. But before that could happen that night, Conrad had a question he wished to ask his father.

"Father? When I was getting ready for bed just now, Cressida the old maid came to gather my clothes. She looked at me and said she thought I looked a lot like the King. Is that strange? I'm not related to his Majesty."

Froderick frowned. He was torn. He wanted his son to know the truth – that he was not really his son. But, he also was reluctant to reveal that information. He was proud to be considered Conrad's father in all but blood, because it tied him further to Gwyn, whom he loved deeply. So, he simply replied, "Sometimes the Lord makes us in the likeness of other people – people whom we have never met or share no kinship with. It means we are destined for great things." He bid Conrad good night and retired to his quarters and the bed he shared with Gwyn.

His wife was just finishing dressing. The two got into bed together and held each other in the darkness. Froderick finally worked up the nerve to tell Gwyn about the earlier conversation.

"Gwyn?"

"Hmm?" she sighed, snuggling closer to him.

"Conrad asked me an _interesting_ question at bedtime tonight."

"And what was that?" Gwyn sighed, half not paying attention, as she began to trail kisses, licks and love bites down her husband's neck.

"He asked me how he could look like the King but not be related to him."

Gwyn stopped what she was doing and looked him full in the face. "Did you tell him anything?" she asked.

"No," Froderick admitted. "I wasn't ready."

"We will tell him in time," Gwyn dismissed. "But…out of curiosity, when will you be ready?" Froderick thought for a moment.

"Soon," he promised her. "And by that, I mean in a few years, when he's grown."

Gwyn smiled and rolled on top of him. "Good. Because I'm not ready to give him up just yet either…and he's actually mine." She stopped when she saw the expression on Froderick's face. She sometimes forgot how much it hurt him to remember that Conrad was not actually his child. He wanted children to actually call his own in every sense of the word. She knew that. She felt terrible that she had not been able to give him any, and almost felt that she could not. Maybe he felt the same too.

But, there was nothing that said they could not try. She decided to be brave and take the chance. She had had sex with her husband before, but it had never been with the intent to try and conceive. Froderick deserved her to go that extra mile after all he had done for her and Conrad. She pulled back his shirt until his scar was revealed and kissed it gently. She even lightly sucked on the cut.

"Froderick, I do love you," she said softly. She gave a small peck on the lips. Then again, longer this time. The kiss soon became more intense, and the passion grew in rough spurts. At last, Gwyn paused just long enough to slip her nightgown over her head; she was now naked. She and her beloved husband began to make deep, passionate, sexy love. The climax for both of them was brilliant, and they fell asleep in each other's arms; each other's tastes on their tongues and their scents filling the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Will Stutley is Captured

**Chapter 3: Will Stutely is Captured**

The next spring morning, all of the brothers and Merry Men sat down to breakfast on Sherwood Compound and Farm. Conrad helped himself to hard-boiled eggs the chickens had just hatched that morning, and a fresh glass of milk squeezed from the cow. Just then, Robin tapped his own glass to call for silence.

"We have another mission," he announced. "We will be traveling via Sherwood Forest to Canterbury to investigate claims of corruption by the social elite. There will be plenty of thieving involved, but it could get messy, so be armed."

Gwyn smiled. She was fond of Canterbury, as she had honeymooned there with Froderick after they were first married. As such, it worried her that the poor might be suffering there.

"Also," her father continued. "I believe it is not dangerous enough for our youngest recruit to not join us." He winked at Conrad, then faced his daughter. "What say you, Gwyn?" Gwyn swallowed a bite of food before replying.

"Provided he stays close to me, that should be fine."

Conrad was excited. He was not allowed to go on every mission, so the sporadic adventure with the Merry Men was most welcome. As soon as the meal was over, everyone split to gather supplies for the journey. Conrad guided his, Gwyn's and Robin's horses from the stable and tied them to the front gate. Then, he ran back to the tool shed to collect weaponry. He and his family always carried bows and arrows, their weapon of choice. But, he also supplemented with a medium-sized broadsword attached to his belt. When he returned, he saw most everyone was prepared and ready to go. Froderick, Tuck and some of the other brothers were waiting with them.

Conrad embraced his father, and the latter placed a peck on the boy's forehead. "Be careful, son," the deacon warned. Then, he kissed Gwyn goodbye. "Love you," they both echoed. Everyone climbed aboard their steeds and trotted off in the direction of Sherwood Forrest.

"Be safe!" Froderick called as he watched his family and their followers gallop away.

* * *

The ride through Sherwood Forrest was always pleasant. It never ceased to amaze Conrad – the sights, the sounds. Robin also never failed to notice this, and would chuckle at his grandson's rapture.

"There's nothing to see, boy," he would tell Conrad. "I used to live here in these woods, you know, many years ago. Riding through the wilderness is a far cry from having to survive in it."

About midday, the band reached the other edge of the trees and galloped across the plains. Canterbury was but a few miles away. Just when they could see the city in the distance, Robin slowed. "We'd better store our horses somewhere safe and enter the city on foot. We'll have the element of surprise on our side if we do it that way. But, where to put the beasts?"

"There, Master," said Much the Miller's Son. A mill was close by. "I know the family that lives there, and they're no friend of the rich. I bet if we ask, they'd be glad to store the horses for us." The Merry Men approached the mill, and Robin met with the merchant out front. The miller was glad to meet the famous Robin Hood, and promised to store the steeds and keep their presence here to himself. The band then continued to approach Canterbury on foot. It was not a long hike, as they would only have to traverse three hills and an open field. It gave Conrad some time to chat with his mother.

At last, they reached the front gates. Everyone pulled hoods over their heads to disguise themselves and went inside. Robin warned everyone to keep their eyes and ears open. They progressed through the streets and the main square, where merchants were hawking their goods.

Just then, Will Stutely spotted a poor beggar woman being bullied by some men in dark robes. They were taking some alms from her. "Leave that poor woman alone!" Will called as he approached. Before the men could react, Will had swiped the coins back from them. He tried to flee, intending to return the money to the lady when he had lost these men in a sure pursuit. But, one of the men was quick. He tackled Will Stutely and then through back his hood. It was one of the Sheriff of Nottingham's deputies!

"You're under arrest for thievery and defying the rule of law!"

The commotion was quickly noticed by the common people; the Merry Men among them. Conrad wanted to rush forward. If he were beyond the crowd he could hit that bastard straight in the eye with an arrow at 20 paces, easy. But, Gwyn held him back.

"No, son!" she told him. "They'll nab you too!" The deputies tied up Will Stutely and began to cart him away on a horse. Robin managed to steal another in the confusion, as only a master robber could, and pursue them. But the Sheriff's deputies were too fast and out ran him with little effort. Defeated, Robin let the beast go free and jogged back to Canterbury.

"Couldn't catch him," he hissed to Little John and Will Scarlet. "Out of here quickly! Get the horses and make haste back to the Farm!" The Merry Men and Gwyn and Conrad raced back to the nearby mill and retrieved their rides. Then, the band galloped at a furious pace back across the plains, through Sherwood Forest and to their home beyond. Froderick was tilling some crops when they approached.

"Halloo, all!" he called, giving his wife a kiss in greeting as she dismounted. "How'd the mission go?"

"We broke up some corruption, but Will Stutely got nabbed by some sly fellows in black. We think they work for the Sheriff," Little John reported.

"There's only one place they'll go with him," Robin added. "York. They'll try him there, and most likely hang him. We have to get there by morning tomorrow!" He turned to his Merry Men, 140 strong. "This mission does not require all of you – just some of our best fighters. Little John, Will Scarlet, Much, Gwyn, Allen-a-Dale – I want you all to accompany me. Oh, and Tuck – could you spare an extra staff and join us?"

"I may be old," the friar said, "but I've still got a spring in my step!" Arthur-a-Bland, George-a-Greene, David of Doncaster and Gilbert with the White Hand also volunteered.

"I want to go too!" Conrad said. Gwyn rounded on him.

"Absolutely not! You were ready to hit that one man with an arrow, and he could have grabbed you as soon as look at you! This is much too dangerous; no place for a boy your age!"

"I can help, Mother!" Conrad protested. "11 souls can't rescue Will Stutely. Make it an even dozen, and we might have a chance!"

"You asked for my permission, but my answer is no," Gwyn stated firmly. "And that is final! You will stay here with your father until we return. Understood?"

Conrad was fuming, but he could not talk back with Froderick right there. So, he simply mumbled "Yes, ma'am." Gwyn softened and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"You'll be much safer here," she assured him. She turned to Froderick, who pulled her into a tight embrace and gave her a long kiss.

"Be careful," he implored her. Gwyn shut him up with another kiss.

"Don't worry," she replied. The chosen members of the rescue party mounted their horses. It was a long ride to York so they would have to leave right then if they had any hope of recovering Will Stutely alive. They galloped off into the evening. Conrad watched them go sadly. Then, he followed his father into the monastery to prepare for evening prayer and dinner.

* * *

That night, when everyone was fast asleep, Conrad stole out of bed. He slipped out the window, across the rooftop and dropped to the ground. When he had reached the stable, he quietly roused his horse, gathered supplies and mounted him. Then, he took off into the night after his grandfather's party.


	4. Chapter 4: York Rescue Truth Comes Out

**Chapter 4: Rescue at York and the Truth Comes Out**

Conrad rode through the night, not even stopping to rest himself or his horse. His beast was a trooper and did not complain. The speed proved to pay off, and they made great time. As the sky was beginning to gray, Conrad could make out a fleet of horses in the distance and deduced it must be the rescue party. He clicked the reins and spurred his horse onward, faster. At last, he overtook the back of the pack. Their own horses' hooves covered the sounds of his own and Conrad hoped that he might be able to blend in at the rear until they got to York.

However, that was probably too much to hope for, and not to be ultimately. Gilbert with the White Hand glanced back at one point and spotted the lad.

"Conrad?"

Before the youth could strike a deal with the man, who was nearly Robin's equal in archery, to keep his presence quiet, Gilbert called up, "Master! Stop! You might want to take a look at this!"

The rest of the party stopped and turned. Reactions were mixed. However, Gwyn was furious and steered her ride so that she was directly across from her son.

"How dare you disobey me! Your father must be worried sick by now!" Her temper had always unnerved Conrad, but this time, he did his best to hold firm.

"I wanted to help, Mother. And trust me, I think you will need it." He did not care if this sounded arrogant, especially in the presence of outlaws with far more experience than he.

Before Gwyn could argue back, Robin placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'd let it go, Gwyn. We should be thankful for his help. But," he added, and here he faced his grandson. "You must stay with us, keep calm, and do exactly as I say. Or anyone else, for that matter. Do I make myself clear?"

"Transparently," Conrad responded. His grandfather nodded, satisfied, and turned his horse around. "Onward, men!"

* * *

The sun had scarcely finished rising into the sky when the rescue party made their final approach to York. This time, Robin did not pause to hide the horses; he had no intention of doing so. The plan was to rush the gates as one on the beasts, and begin to attack. Dismounting would come later once they had located Will Stutely. Robin loaded his bow.

"CHARGE!" he roared, before spurring his horse into a breakneck pace. The others followed suit, and began to fire. Several guards posted at the gate were felled. Conrad loaded an arrow and fired. His aim was perfect as the arrow passed through the iron gate and sliced through the ropes supporting it. The gate rolled up with a clang. The Merry Men thundered across the drawbridge and into the main square.

They were in the nick of time, for they could see Will Stutely at the gallows. The stool was kicked out from under him and he began to be strangled by the noose. Gwyn quickly let an arrow fly and it sliced the noose in half. Will Stutely collapsed to the ground, where he was quickly scooped up by Little John. The party was just about to reverse their path and make their escape in a classic hit-and-run when guards suddenly poured out of the nearby garrison and quickly surrounded the band. Gwyn instinctively shielded Conrad with her arm. "Don't move!" she ordered him. The guards were about to close in when a voice called out.

"Stay!" said an officious looking man sitting at a nearby platform with other nobles. Gwyn quickly did a double-take. It was Phillip, the King! What was he doing at the planned hanging of Will Stutely? Conrad also got a good look at his Majesty. It struck him how much he did resemble the royal monarch.

The King drew closer to the outlaws. "Gwyn? Is that really you?" Being addressed thus made Gwyn stiffen. How dare he call her by name, as if they were old friends and nothing had happened!

"Yes," she replied coldly. Phillip's gaze shifted from her to the boy she was defending. He blinked in surprise. He deduced almost immediately the truth and then smiled.

"Come now, Gwyn put your weapons down. Do you really think I would harm our own son?"

Robin set an arrow in the notch of his bow. "You will die before you touch either of them, you raping heathen! I don't care if you are the King!" But Conrad was not paying any attention. He felt as though his head was swimming. Did his Grace just say… _our_ son?!

"I knew there was more to us than I realized!" the youth blurted out. The King nodded.

"Yes, my boy, your mother loved me, and I her. We did have intercourse, but I never dreamed something would result from it."

"You mean after you raped me!" Gwyn shot back. "You knew I could not be with you, and you wanted me anyway! I wish you had no connection with Conrad!"

Phillip blinked. "You named him… Conrad?"

Gwyn averted her gaze and mumbled something about not wanting to forget but also forget. Conrad, however, was fuming. The King raped his mother?! And got away with it besides?! There were a lot of things Conrad was now not sure about. But there was one thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: this man was no father of his. But His Majesty was now speaking to him again.

"Conrad," the ruler pleaded and he actually knelt before him. "You are the answer to a prayer. My Queen and I have been unable to produce an heir. Now we don't have to – you're him! You are the rightful heir to the throne of England. If you come with me, you can have anything and everything you want. You could be King someday!"

Conrad thought for a moment. He could live a life of wealth and luxury. He could do whatever he wanted. But, then he looked at his mother. Her eyes were pleading. And, the boy realized the life of a monarch was not the life he had always dreamed of.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but I already am the heir to another throne: my grandfather's realm of robbers and criminals. I am the Heir of Thieves, like my mother and grandfather before me. And I already have a father – his name is Froderick." Phillip looked stunned. He was about to ask Gwyn for an explanation, but then straightened. He could not change the lad's mind, so he said, "All of you, get out and take your friend with you before I sick my guards on you."

The Merry Men did not need to be told twice. They broke the ranks of the guards and galloped out of York. Conrad stole one last look at the man who was responsible for his existence. Somehow, he knew, they would never meet again.


	5. Chapter 5: A Newcomer is Welcomed

**Chapter 5: A Newcomer is Welcomed**

All the way back to Sherwood Compound and Farm, Conrad bombarded his mother with questions. Gwyn had no choice but to supply the answers, and actually seemed happy to do so. It must have been hard for her, Conrad rationalized, to keep such a secret for so long. She told him everything, from her audience with the King gone wrong just a few months after the new ruler took the throne to falling in love with and marrying Froderick to her pregnancy and Conrad's birth. It was a fascinating story, to say the least.

It took the rescue party most of the day to travel back home, and they finally reached Sherwood Compound and Farm a while after dark. Everyone else was already asleep; there were no lights on in the buildings. The rescue party stored their provisions and some of the Merry Men helped Will Stutely to the table so they could administer any necessary medical help. Robin retired with only a mumbled good night, and Gwyn and Conrad also went upstairs to go to bed. As they parted ways at their respective doors, Conrad said, "Thank you, Mother, for telling me." She nodded and wished pleasant dreams before disappearing into her room. Conrad slipped to the door and secretly watched as his mother lowered herself next to her husband. She kissed his cheek and whispered "I love you," before sinking into her pillow. Conrad tiptoed back to his bed, collapsed on the comforter and fell asleep at once.

* * *

A few weeks later, exciting news spread across the farm: Gwyn was pregnant again. This time, it was certain that Froderick was the father. Conrad noted how happy his father was. Initially after he had learned of his origins, he would have to stop himself, but then he had given up. What he had told the King was true: Froderick was his father, the only one he had ever known. The King did not deserve to be referred to with any paternal titles after what he had done to Gwyn, as far as Conrad was concerned.

Froderick was certainly happy, but also nervous. He had experienced this before with Conrad's birth, but the feelings had been different because the boy had not been his. There was more trepidation that this was his actual child now. Also, memories of Gwyn's first pregnancy and her rape re-surfaced as the months progressed. Strange, that he should have these fears and his wife not. This was made perfectly clear to him one night.

Froderick awoke from a horrible nightmare screaming. "No! No! No!" he was yelling. He was clutching Gwyn's back as he firmly grasped her naked breast. As he came into consciousness, he could hear his wife's soothing voice.

"It's okay, Froderick, I'm right here," Gwyn reassured her husband in an attempt to calm his breathing. She placed her hand over the one on her breast and interlaced her fingers with his. "What was it this time?"

"Phillip raped you again…after I left for Spain…pregnant," was all Froderick could get out.

"Oh Froderick." Gwyn pressed her naked body back against him. "Phillip didn't rape me when you were gone on your commission, did he?"

"Nnnnh" he murmured and she felt him shake his head.

"And how do you know that, Froderick?" She hated to press the point, but she knew by now that his irrational nightmares required a reasoned and logical argument.

"Pregnant already," was all he said.

"That's right, Froderick. I was pregnant already when we were together that first night in your room." She took a deep breath and continued. "Phillip didn't go with me to Canterbury. Who did, Froderick? Who made love to me on that Norman castle balcony overlooking the Great Stour River?" She pressed his hand more firmly into her breast.

"Me," he replied sheepishly.

"Right again, it was you, my love. And who did I marry?" she asked as she arched against him, rubbing herself against hid growing arousal.

"Me," he whispered as he kissed her neck softly.

"And whose baby is growing inside me?" Gwyn slid their joined hands from her breast to her abdomen as she spoke.

"Mine," Froderick practically growled into her ear, causing her to shiver as he slid his hand down her belly to cup her between her legs. There was a time she would have scolded him for such possessiveness, but that was before she knew what fears lay in his heart.

"Yours, Froderick." She rolled over to face him and began to press gentle but insistent kisses on his face. "I'm yours, Froderick." She kissed along his jaw. "Only yours." She placed another kiss to the hollow of his neck, licking her way to his chin. "Always yours." She met him in a deep and passionate kiss, allowing his mouth to devour hers. Gwyn grabbed the sides of Frodeick's head and forced him to meet her eyes. "I love _you_ ," she told him fiercely.

"Mine," he responded with equal ferocity. "I love you," he declared as he ran his hands along her back to her bum and pressed against her.

"Don't let go, Froderick. Don't let me go," she begged as she melted into his embrace.

"Never, I'll never let go," he promised before rolling her onto her back and showing his wife how much he loved her.

* * *

A couple of months later, Gwyn had reached the end of her pregnancy. When she went into labor, Robin, Froderick and Conrad were notified immediately. Conrad was ecstatic to behold his half-sister after the delivery. Gwyn finally decided to call her Anna. Her middle name became Marian, after her grandmother. Now the family was complete with a Prince, Princess, Heir, Deacon and Infant of Thieves.


End file.
